


A Stone's Throw Away

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [44]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Also chickens, Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prejudice Against Monsters (Undertale), Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 14:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17388497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Stretch just wants to spend some time with his chickens. The universe has other plans.





	A Stone's Throw Away

* * *

By the time Stretch made his way outside, after a trip to the kitchen for a cup of the glorious lifegiving brew that was coffee, his ladies were already waiting for him. All three of them were by the coop door informing him on no uncertain terms that they were obviously on the verge of starvation and could he please get them some damn food? 

Okay, they were clucking and kicking up a fuss, they hadn’t learned speech overnight, but that didn’t matter. Stretch knew what was what, thanks, and hungry chickens didn’t need a translator. 

“all right, hang on,” Stretch told them with exasperated fondness. They clustered around his boots the moment he opened the door and it turned into a bizarre kind of ‘the ground is lava’, only the lava was chickens and they kept moving, weaving through his feet. 

Eh, it was a sign of trust that they thought he wouldn’t step on them. Probably. Plus, their brains were probably the size of almonds, he doubted they were making too many complex decisions. 

He didn’t care. His chicks were damn adorable and when he poured their feed into the trough, they scrambled eagerly for it, scarfing loudly. None of them minded if he petted them while they ate, and he gave each of them a fond stroke before stepping back to check on their water. 

Everything seemed good. He stepped back out of the coop, going far enough away to light a cigarette. Didn’t want any ash around the chickies. He did leave the door open in case they wanted to have a quick run around the back yard. It was too cold for them to be out for very long, but they liked it and it was good exercise. 

Sure enough, once the trough was empty, all three of them made their way out to explore. From the way Noodle was proudly strutting around, he’d better check the nesting boxes today. Egg production had slowed down considerably in the cold weather and he figured Edge was probably relieved; there was only so much you could do with that many eggs. 

Fuck, but it was cold. Stretch kept one hand in his pocket for the time being, sacrificing the other to the icy terrain to hold his cigarette. Even gloves could only do so much. 

Not that he was going to be out much longer anyway. He didn’t want to keep the chickies out too long in this weather, but he did want to get a few pictures for Instagram. They had their feathers all fluffed out to insulate against the wind and it was fucking adorable.

Posting a chicken picture always started a frenzy on his Instagram and Twitter, people _loved_ them, loved the costumes he came up with and seeing all their little colored eggs, Monsters and Humans alike. It had still been a weird thing when not too long ago, Tori had come over for a visit to see them. He and Tori weren’t exactly close, but he respected her a hell of a lot more than some other Monsters he wasn’t going to name _cough_ -her-ex-husband- _cough._

Formal propaganda was all good and well but informal interactions on social media were excellent, or so Tori had told him, in that sweet voice of hers. 

Stretch had never had a mom but if they were all like Tori, he guessed he could see the appeal. Beneath that soft voice and gentle nature was a core of steel that let her be a guardian of sorts to all of the diplomats, even Blue, and Stretch had a fine appreciation for anyone who helped keep his bro safe. 

It was absolutely the Publicity Department and Ass-gore who put her up to it; of course they wanted him to keep it up, since he had three times as many followers as the official Monster Facebook and Twitter, combined. Tori was a good choice as a go-between; she spent enough time around ambassadors to be a decent one herself, plus he wasn’t stupid, and she didn’t treat him like he was. She was upfront with what she wanted, unlike some people, and she straight up told him they were hoping he’d include more pictures of himself with the chickens, maybe a few other Monsters who didn’t mind being on social media or Jeff if he agreed; it was good to get them out there, visible. 

The more commonplace Monsters became to the rest of the world, the better. 

They all knew better than to ask Edge to talk to him. He’d said from the beginning that he refused to be a mediator between the Embassy and his husband due to, in his words, a conflict of interest. They could ask Stretch themselves if they wanted his help with anything. 

Couldn’t fault Edge for his strategy. He had his own experiences in being diplomatic and ‘conflict of interest’ was a discreet way of saying he wasn’t about to sleep on the sofa for any of Ass-gore’s schemes, no matter how good a cause it was. 

Nugget wandered over to his feet, her earnest little clucks a sure sign that she was hoping for scritches. Stretch leaned over to oblige, and her little eyes closed in ecstasy. 

They really were adorable. He couldn’t help smiling when Noodle and Dumpling came running over, clamoring eagerly for petting of their own. 

“you know, gals, i really need an extra hand for this,” Stretch chuckled. He did the best he could as they crowded at his feet, clucking and chirring contentedly. 

Edge was a generous soul, for sure, and Stretch absolutely knew he was spoiled completely rotten by him, but these chickens had to be the best gift his husband had ever given him. Sure, Stretch had wanted a chicken as a pet when he’d saw them at the petting zoo, but he’d never expected to adore the little brats as much as he did. 

Made it easier to get out of bed some mornings, knowing they were waiting for him, depending on him. There was a little something to the whole ‘taking care of someone’ thing that Edge liked so much. 

The back door opened and Stretch looked over in surprise to see Edge stepping out as if summoned by his thoughts. It was barely past eleven, he’d only been at work a few hours, what the hell—

“hey, baby,” he started uneasily, trailing off when Edge only looked at him silently. Slowly, Stretch stood, wincing as his joints popped from crouching so long in the cold. The chickens had abandoned him as soon as Edge came out, but he didn’t stoop down to pet them like he usually would. "are you okay?"

He'd never seen that expression on Edge's face. It made him uneasy, not afraid, never afraid, but...he looked bleak, soft shadows blurred beneath his sockets. He was in his shirtsleeves, his tie loosened, and he had to be freezing, it was so fucking cold out here, but he only tucked his hands into his pockets, standing in the snow in thin leather shoes. 

Hesitantly, Stretch walked over to him, settled his gloved hands on Edge’s arms. “babe?”

Edge ran his tongue over his teeth nervously and Stretch could only stare. He was acting completely out of character, what the fuck—

"Would you let me--" Edge began and then broke off, ducking his head. 

"anything," Stretch said, immediately. 

Beneath his hands, Edge shuddered. "You shouldn't tell me things like that." 

Oh, what the fuck ever. Like there wasn't anything he wouldn't do, if Edge asked? His therapist had commented on it, in that damn neutral little voice of hers, asked if they were maybe a little codependent and Stretch could give shit about her opinion on it. If she wanted to see codependency, she should’ve seen how he was when he lived with his brother. 

"anything," Stretch said, again. He meant it. He loved Edge, knew him, _knew_ him. He was never gonna ask for anything Stretch wouldn’t be willing to give.

So it was a little confusing when Edge drew away from him. Realization dawned when he carefully shooed the chickens back into the coop, heedless of the fact that the snow was probably wrecking a very expensive pair of shoes. It didn’t take long, the gals were amicable, and when he came back, Edge took his hand and led him inside. 

Just inside the door, they both toed off their wet footwear. They only went as far as the living room. Stretch stood silently, helping Edge pull his sweatshirt over his head along with the tank top beneath it. His track pants fell to his ankles when they were pushed off his pelvis and Edge knelt, lifting his feet one at a time to pull them free. His socks were last, and Stretch didn’t move, standing bare while Edge folded his clothes methodically, setting them on the coffee table and following them with his own.

Their sofa was plenty large enough for two skeletons, deliberately so. Edge had chosen the furniture before they’d even been dating, lots of room for movie nights and game nights and family holidays, things that had slowly grown important to all of them. They settled on the sofa together, Stretch at the back and Edge in front of him, facing him. The fluffy blanket that was always draped over the back was pulled down over them, burying the tangle of their limbs in a warm nest of fabric.

Close as they were, bare against each other, there was nothing sexual in Edge’s touch. He pressed a gloved hand over Stretch's chest, the deep red fabric stark against the whiteness of bone. Stretch waited but Edge didn't ask.

"did you want to see my soul?" Stretch asked softly, almost curiously. Edge shifted against him, restlessly, his fingers curling against Stretch’s ribs. 

"Yes," he whispered, finally. "I won't touch it."

Stretch didn’t give a damn if Edge wanted to lick it. But he didn't say anything, just let it manifest in his ribcage. Between the slats of his ribs, the delicate silver glow poured out. Resting against his sternum, Edge’s hand was close enough that he would be able to feel its warmth.

The light cast his fingers in indistinct shadows, only the sound of their breathing between them and Stretch watched Edge staring at his soul, the silver of it faintly reflected in his eye lights, like a halo around a blood moon. 

“Enough,” he said, finally, and Stretch let his soul fade back.

Edge let out a watery sigh, curling in closer and replacing his hand with his skull, resting his head against Stretch’s ribcage. 

Gently, Stretch stroked the smooth curve of it, following the occipital bone down to where it met the cervical vertebra, then back up. “what happened?”

Another sigh, and Edge said, “First, I need to tell you that she’ll be all right.” 

That caveat sent a chill through him, worse than any morning wind. He pressed his tongue hard against his teeth until it ached, determinate to let Edge tell him in his own way.

“You’ve seen the protesters outside the Embassy before.”

He had. Technically, the sidewalk outside the gates were part of the Embassy. There was always a group of protesters across the street with their signs and their folding chairs, advertising their personal brand of hate. Stretch didn’t go to the Embassy very often but when he did, he always ignored them. 

Or well, he did now. He’d gotten to sit down for a long, politely threatening chat with the Publicity department the time he’d given them the finger. Even Blue had been annoyed with him on that one but eh, it was a good picture. Red had a print of it on his mantel. 

“It was usually only about five Humans, maybe less,” Edge said, heavily. “At this point there is a group of over a hundred.”

“what the fuck…” Stretch started to sit up automatically but Edge wouldn’t let go. He subsided reluctantly, cupping Edge’s skull again in his hand. “over a hundred!?”

Edge nodded, his cheekbone scraping softly against rib bones. “It seems a religious group of Humans from outside Ebott came in to join the protesters. It’s been…ugly this past week.”

“i didn’t know,” Stretch confessed. With the Beanery still closed he didn’t get into Ebott as often and if he tried to watch the news every day, he might as well change his mailing address to their bed because that was where he would be living, wallowing in black depression.

“They were louder than they had been but our security and the Ebott police were handling it,” Edge went on, and each word seemed more reluctant, heavy with whatever weight they were carrying. “They may not all care for Monsters, but it seems they like these protesters even less. There didn’t seem to be a reason to bring it up, until today.

“Janice was going out, there’s a deli around the corner and they…on Thursdays they have a special spinach quiche. It sells out quickly, so she was going early. She asked me if I wanted anything and I told her no, I’d brought my lunch. I could have gone with her, I considered it, to get some air, but—“

His voice cracked and Stretch hushed him gently, even with dread throbbing in him. “hey, whatever happened wasn’t your fault.”

“It was not,” Edge agreed, acidly. “It was entirely the fault of the Human who threw a brick at her.”

“fuck!” This time Stretch did struggle upright. Edge shifted to sit next to him, keeping both of them wrapped in the oversized blanket. “how bad? i mean—“

“She needed some stitches,” Edge said. He reached over and took one of Stretch’s hands, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles absently. “She has good HP but there was a lot of violent intent. They wanted to keep her overnight. I volunteered to bring her son up to her, but it was decided it would be better if Antwan and the child’s aunt brought him. His mother wanted a Human to help so that he knows it isn’t all Humans who cause problems.”

“that’s very good of her,” Stretch admitted.

“It’s practical of her,” Edge corrected. “We work with Humans every day, we both know they aren’t all bad and we can’t afford to raise our children in fear.” He fell silent for a moment, almost seemed to be struggling as he added roughly. “She’s a very efficient secretary. I’m going to be lost until she’s well enough to come back to work.”

And you care about her, Stretch didn’t say, his soul aching. It had taken so long for Edge to admit his feelings for him and as bold as he was with it now, sharing soft, sincere ‘I love you’s’ whenever the whim struck him, showing his caring for others still tended to be difficult. And now someone who mattered to him had been hurt. 

No wonder he’d come home.

Stretch didn't have to hear what else Edge wasn't saying. That he'd been imagining it had been him, felt guilty for being relieved it wasn't. Could hardly fault him for that; Stretch had the same damn niggling idea sitting in the back of his skull. That if Edge had gone with her, he might be the one in the hospital and Antwan would be coming here to pick him up. He could see it as clearly as a picture; Antwan trying to offer what support he could, might even bring Jeff with him, hey, the more the merrier right, and Edge would be the one in a hospital bed for once with IV tubes trailing out from his soul. 

_(But not dust, not dust, he’d seen his brother’s dust, so many times.)_

Yeah, Stretch knew a little something about survivor’s guilt. He didn’t have to guess that Edge was thinking of the rare visits that Stretch made to the Embassy, maybe even his various trips into Ebott. He still went to the book stores, went thrifting, often with Jeff but not always. 

All those times he was around Humans on his own with no way to know their intentions until they struck and yeah, Stretch was light on his feet but with him it would only take once.

Edge didn’t say anything else, only moved to rest his skull on Stretch’s shoulder, tucking the blanket more securely around them. If he got it any tighter, they’d be mummified in it, death by cuddly warmth. But he said nothing, not a word.

He wasn't going to ask, Stretch realized, no matter how much he wanted to. 

Well, looked like it was his turn to bend.

"tell you what," Stretch said slowly. "i don't get down to the embassy very often but if i do, maybe it'd be better if i shortcut directly into the lobby? i should be able to make it that far from the bus stop. not that they’d be able to hit me, but probably better i don’t make myself a target. i don’t wanna give them a chance to get better aim."

Edge didn’t reply for a long time, only moved a hand back over his sternum, just above his soul. Then softly, “Thank you.”

It was a little exasperating that Edge thought he needed to thank him for taking the basic precautions. Stretch kept it to himself, Edge tried pretty damn hard not to overstep with the protectiveness. The least he could do was respect that.

“There are other humans there, you know,” Edge said abruptly. “Protesting the protesters. They have their own signs. They sing to cover up the shouts of the others and they made sure the police knew which human threw that brick. He was arrested, and we’ve been assured he will be charged with a hate crime.”

“that sounds like a good thing,” Stretch offered. 

“It’s…encouraging. To be reminded that not all Humans would prefer us back beneath the mountain if not outright dead.”

“most humans.”

“Most humans,” Edge agreed. “It’s only that the ones who hate us seem to screech the loudest.”

A hopeful thought occurred to him. “hey, do you think maybe we could visit janice tonight? maybe call first and see if she’d mind visitors? we could bring up some cookies for oscar, you made those oatmeal ones a couple days ago and i didn’t eat all of them yet.”

“Cookies survived your plunder? Maybe we should go to the hospital.” Edge said dryly, but he seemed to relax a little so the idea must have some appeal. 

Probably thinking that leftovers weren’t good enough, and maybe about whipping up another batch of cookies or muffins or whatever comfort food was plucking at his issues. 

“Can we sit here a little longer?”

Or maybe no baking yet. “sure. here, let’s-“ 

Stretch squirmed until he was laying on his back, Edge curled up against his side. He settled his hand on Stretch’s sternum again, fingers not quite stroking. Stretch didn’t manifest his soul again, but he did closed his eyes, concentrating on how much he loved Edge. He loved him, so very much, and if he could pour that into Edge somehow, make him know how much he was loved in this moment, he would. 

Maybe he thought it strongly enough, Edge could still feel it.

-finis-


End file.
